Working Nightshift: North Side of Milwaukee

At night,
they pop n’ lock in their wheels.
Litter tumbles the lot.
Tricked out rims chrome-glint
under gas station glare.

Grocery-sack ghosts
whip through the air,
as last night’s leaking-latex leftovers
and cracked devil’s-dicks
buy blunts and gas.

Someone’s bass
pounds the bullet-proof glass.
Beats bump and grind on the brain,
as gold grills flash and cuss at the cost
of lung-searing smokes
before fanning a stack of cash.
C-notes grown from grass.

Nickel and copper coins clink
in chaotic toss for the tray
to pay for condoms and chips
as the register drawer flies open
and like the fluorescents,
my body buzzes
with the city’s night-song.